


Violet Femmes

by ShadowHaloedAngel



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Hellboy (Movies 2004-2008), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The House with a Clock in its Walls (2018)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Women, Bisexual Female Character, Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense, Canon Disabled Character, Cold War, Espionage, F/F, First Meetings, Girls Kissing, Historical, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Poker, SHIELD, SSR, Slow Build, Strategic Scientific Reserve, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2020-04-06 15:45:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19065679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowHaloedAngel/pseuds/ShadowHaloedAngel
Summary: When Florence needed to get out of Europe, the SSR were instrumental in her escape. They helped her get to America and set up her new life, but for the most part she hasn't heard much from them since.A few days after the clock was stopped, and the shadow of Isaac finally dispersed, an envelope with the SSR logo on it lands on her doormat, informing her that an agent is en route to check on her and investigate the events of the last few days.Quite frankly, she doesn't want to interact with anyone at all, let alone a faceless government agent in her home, but when said agent arrives, they turn out to be the last thing Florence expects, and to set her on a path she would never have predicted, joining an international team dedicated towards seeking out and destroying occult and demonic threats to humanity.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been teasing this crossover for a while, and now finally here it is.

It was only a few days since everything had happened, and although supposedly now life could go back to normal, Florence knew very well that it was rarely that simple. In some ways now she had her life back. She and Jonathan had been worrying over that clock for a year now, and that suddenly being gone, knowing that the world was safe now, at least from that... it was a weight off her shoulders certainly, but it also left her at a bit of a loose end. She was also trying to come to terms with the return of her magic. She'd spent years mourning its loss, after all, trying to learn who she was now that she was no longer the greatest witch of her age, and now... well it threw her into a tailspin all over again, although she would never admit it. 

At the back of her mind really she'd been expecting the letter that landed on her doormat. In some ways she was surprised it had taken so long, but then, the wheels of government often turned slowly and it could have been worse. A few days was hardly anything. 

She regarded it for a long moment, wondering whether to take it next door and feed it to Chair, pretend she hadn't got it. She didn't like dealing with the government, and for all that the SSR had generally done well by her in the past, she still had healthy suspicions of any organisation in authority, let alone one that knew about her. The crisp paper was a pale brown, and the logo of the SSR was stamped prominently and clearly on the corner. She wondered whether it had actually come through the regular mail, or whether they had hand delivered it. It didn't really matter, but she was fairly sure the SSR were one of the more secret arms of government, even by the standards of espionage and the supernatural. 

Ignoring it wouldn't make it go away, and she was always of the belief that knowledge was a weapon, even if it was knowledge you didn't want to have. Information was valuable. Information had been what kept her alive. Instead, Florence sighed and picked it up, setting it on the kitchen table and turning to put the kettle on. If she was going to confront this, she would do it with a cup of coffee inside her. 

She'd dealt with a lot of people at the SSR over the years, almost all men. She'd heard rumours that they did employ women, and given the female resistance fighters she had known that had seemed a sensible policy. Then again in peacetime it was suddenly so urgent to find jobs for all the men who had been away fighting and women who had worked and built lives and identities for themselves were told to forget all they had been, and really thank you for your service but wouldn't you be happier at home now? Nothing was ever that simple, and sometimes she felt the distance this country had from the war in her bones. It had been far more a spectacle, or something removed and academic. None of them had ever been at risk of their home being broken into in the middle of the night, or fearing whether their family would be next to be disappeared.

It touched veterans, and veterans touched families, but for those who had been at home existence had remained, for the most part, cosy, and that was something people were determined to hold onto, even now. Unfortunately with the changes in policy she was more likely to encounter yet more young men who had no understanding of what she'd been through and would treat her like a distraction, or worse still, like a bomb liable to explode. They didn't know how to relate to women, because they didn't think of women as people to take seriously, or really, as people at all. Florence knew very well what it was like to be thought of as not really a person, and it ached inside her on the worst nights, although she tried not to let it bother her too much. One of the advantages of a small town was that at least here people tended to recognise each other as individuals and understand that everyone had something to contribute. 

The kettle whistled on the hob after barely a moment, and it took her by surprise. Kitchen magic had been one of the few things she'd held onto since it didn't require any real skill, but it was a reminder all the same that her power was returning. As she set the coffee to brew a traitorous thought whispered in the back of her mind that maybe they knew her powers had returned now and had plans for her in some sort of government program. She had no interest in being a spy and even less in being a weapon or a test subject. Really, after everything, she just wanted to be left alone. 

With a sigh, Florence poured the coffee and regarded it, deciding to take it black and unsweetened for courage as she sat down at the table and stared at the envelope. Well. There was no putting it off any further, and now that she had her magic back, if it was too egregious perhaps she could disappear. This time she wouldn't need their help, after all, and if she could get far enough away... but all these fantasies were baseless, and it was ridiculous to expend so much energy on hypotheticals without more information. 

She picked up the letter and sliced it open smoothly, easing out the typewritten single sheet with all the usual date and addresses and so on at the top. 

"Dear Mrs Zimmermann,

It has come to our attention that an incident took place in your area several nights ago related to extraplanar activity. We would like to apologise for our lack of contact in recent years, but had thought it best to leave you in your new life. In light of this incident we will be sending an agent to visit you for a few days - perhaps a distant relative? In order to evaluate the situation and your current stability. 

The SSR would like to thank you once more for your services rendered to this nation and to the world during the war, and assure you that we have your best interests at heart. Please expect our agent three days from the date of this letter.

Yours sincerely-"

The signature was illegible, and the secretary had either deliberately or unintentionally forgotten to include the name of whoever it was who had written it. Florence was unsurprised by that. The concealment of identity was a large part of what they did, after all, and it would make it harder for her to kick up a fuss or complain if she had no name to pin anything to. Compared to what she had known this was relatively neutral bureaucracy, if not benevolent, but she retained a distaste for it born of her time surrounded by those with a disdain for authority and a love of life. So much of that spark she had once had in her youth had faded now, but really, she didn't miss it. 

She took a sip of her coffee and then glanced at the date again, then more hurriedly at the calendar. Oh, of all the- really, there was inconsiderate, and then there was this. And expecting her to host of all things too. There was a perfectly good hotel in town, but then of course they wouldn't be able to monitor her constantly and she /hated/ being monitored. It made her very anxious. And of course they were also asking a women who lived alone in a small town to host an unknown man, without any protection. Whether or not he was there on official business, she knew what men could be like and all of a sudden having Jonathan next door didn't feel like enough. That was saying nothing of what it might do to her reputation given what they already said about her and Jonathan, and how the town ran on gossip.

Jonathan... she didn't know whether the authorities were aware of their friendship or not, but now that he had Lewis with him too she was loath to draw attention to them... except that the SSR supposedly kept a register of magic users in the country for reference in times of national crisis and if they were here to investigate what happened with Isaac then Lewis and Jonathan would need to be a part of that story too. Oh, she just couldn't win.

Florence sighed and drained her coffee, welcoming the burn of it down her throat to keep her anchored in her body as she set the mug down and headed upstairs to check on the state of the guest bedroom. It was strange how a day which had seemed to start so well had turned on a dime, and how something as innocent as a letter could cause her stomach to knot up in fear she wasn't entirely sure was unwarranted. 

It was late afternoon by the time there was a knock on the door, and of course she hadn't been able to leave the house in case the agent had arrived while she was out. Fortunately Lewis had been willing to run some errands in town for her and brought back a ham she had cooked, since of course she would also be expected to feed them. There had been no mention in the letter of any kind of per diem allowance they might have, and she resented having her budget stretched without her consent to feed someone she didn't want to host anyway. 

She opened the door to a woman in a smart blue suit, carrying a leather bag. 

"...Excuse me, can I help you?"

"Yes, I hope so. I'm looking for Mrs Florence Zimmermann. I'm relatively certain this is the address they gave me, but our records aren't always perfect and I do find navigating small towns quite challenging. It's the lack of house numbers, you know."

The accent took her by surprise too. It wasn't American, like the one she had painstakingly acquired to better blend in in this new life, although perhaps the edges had softened a little. Instead it was British, warm and familiar in ways she couldn't quite place. There had been so many people from all over the world in the cafes of Paris, but the proximity to the Channel had made it a haven for a certain kind of Brit as well. 

"...May I ask who's calling?"

"Of course. Agent Peggy Carter, with the SSR. Here's my card."

Florence checked the identification that was offered to her, taking her time over it as a way to cover her surprise. This certainly wasn't what she had been expecting, and although immediately it seemed a better alternative, only time would tell. Women could be just as cruel as men, she knew that first hand, but she could perhaps hope a little bit more, and fear a little bit less for her own safety now. 

"...I see. Thank you, Agent Carter. You'd better come in."

"Please, call me Peggy. They did say they would let you know I was coming, I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time?"

"Not as such, but the letter only arrived this morning."

"Oh lord, I am most terribly sorry, particularly to put you out on such short notice. I hope it isn't too much of an inconvenience? I will let the office know that they must be more careful about sending out these notices. I suppose there's some policy from the higher-ups that thinks we shouldn't risk giving you too much notice so that we can catch you out doing anything you're not supposed to, but you're not under any suspicion and to me it seems counter-productive to foment resentment for routine visits."

"Is this routine?"

Peggy paused and smiled, bright and real, and the curl of her hair bounced against her cheek. 

"...I suppose it's not entirely un-routine, shall we say? It's a pleasure to meet you, Florence, although I do apologise for the circumstances. I read your file. It can't have been easy."

"...No. It hasn't been. Thank you."

"What for?"

"For admitting that I have a file, and that you've read it. I knew there was one, of course, but it's so often the policy to deny such things, and I prefer knowing that you've read it, and that you admit it. I think I have dealt with people before who hadn't actually taken the time to read my file at all and yet assumed they knew everything about my situation. Or, they pretended the file didn't exist and treated me as stupid for behaving as though it did."

"When you say people..."

"I mean men, naturally. But you know that. I knew the SSR had women in the war, I didn't realise they still did. So many places sacked most of their female workforce when the troops returned."

"That's true. And most women in the SSR left, but I stayed."

"Agent?"

"Agent."

"There can't be many like you."

"There weren't then, and there are fewer now. The SSR is better than most at realising the value of different experiences, points of view, sources of information, and agents who can go undercover in a much wider variety of situations, but... well. Being a woman and a foreigner counts against me much more than it counts for me."

"How did you get involved?"

"During the war. I joined up and I was assigned to a joint task force which is what became the SSR, focusing on the more... unorthodox aspects of the Nazis, more specifically on countering HYDRA. After the war I moved to America and stayed on."

"I see. You must have plenty of stories to tell."

"A few, but I wouldn't like to bore you."

There was that smile again, and Florence couldn't help but stare a little, trying to remember the last time she'd seen someone so... vital and alive. 

Peggy set her bag down neatly out of the way, rather than in the middle of the floor, and crouched to rummage in it. 

"I did bring some money to cover my room and board, I couldn't expect you to feed me out of your own pocket after all, particularly not on this kind of notice, and..." She pulled a bottle out of her bag and held it up with a smile, "I brought a bottle of gin. It's my favourite, and it would have been rude to turn up without a drink, even on official business. I was hoping perhaps you might like to share some with me."

"...You aren't what I expected..."

Florence said carefully as she took the bottle and inspected the label. 

"...I'll take that as a compliment. I hope I'm not being too forward, but as I'm sure you understand I spend most of my time surrounded by men, and dealing with men. When I read your file I hoped... well, it seemed like it might be a nice change."

"... Well, thank you. I suppose we'll see."


	2. Chapter 2

Florence followed Peggy into the kitchen, a little on the back foot as the business-like woman took the lead. 

"...It is incredibly impolite of me, but might you run to a cup of coffee? It was quite the journey down here and I'm parched."

"...Of course, my apologies, I had intended to offer sooner, but-"

"No no I... forgive me. It's a side effect of working with men I suppose. If I don't take some kind of charge of a situation nothing ever gets done. There are plenty of times when it's more effective to listen than talk, but when in the office I've learned never to give them an opening. I hate having to steam roller people, but the alternative is being relegated to secretary, and quite frankly, I'm too good."

Florence smiled a little. 

"...I'm sure you are. Would you prefer coffee, or tea?"

"I'm afraid my standards tend to run a little higher when it comes to tea."

"I could make an educated guess."

Peggy grinned. 

"It's the accent, isn't it."

Florence's smile widened as she reached for two cups in a delicate shade of lavender. 

"...Perhaps. But the wonders of magic might extend to the first decent cup of tea you've had in quite some time?"

"Not as long as you might think, but they are rare nonetheless. Thank you. That would be very generous. Perhaps over tea we might discuss recent events?"

Florence's hands shook a little as she set the cups down, clinking undignified against the expectant silence, and she tried to steady herself. 

"...Of course. That is why you're here."

"It is the main reason, certainly."

"Are there others?" A slightly bitter half-smile as she glanced sideways from beneath her lashes, "Am I being assessed?"

"No. Nothing like that."

Peggy's gaze was level and direct, and Florence felt her shoulders come down a little from where they had subconsciously risen around her ears. 

"...Well, that's a mercy, I suppose."

When the agent spoke again, her voice was surprisingly gentle. 

"I'm... not here to judge you. I know others might. I know others have, actually. I... don't think we ever officially met before, but I was part of the team that got you out. It's... good to see that you have made a home and a life for yourself here. When we became aware of the incident a few days ago... I requested this assignment for a number of reasons, and they were inclined to give it to me because I am a woman and they were foolish enough to believe that you were unimportant. I am here to find out what happened, and to talk to you and see if there is anything else we can do for you. Anything else is secondary."

"I thought you looked familiar, but everything from that time is a blur, and something I'd rather forget. It was... perhaps not quite the lowest moment of my life, but it ranks highly. I hope you will forgive my lapse in memory."

Florence passed her hand over the cups, filling them with fresh, steaming tea and setting them on the table. After a moment's consideration, she pointed at an empty plate and filled it with cookies, setting it alongside. 

"Oh how wonderful, thank you very much. These look delicious."

Peggy smiled at her as she reached for a cookie, and it was bright and real. There was a mischief, an energy about her which remained remarkably undampened for someone who had apparently seen frontline service. 

"They are a specialty. One of the few things I retained the ability to do. Simple things weren't beyond me, but... more complex things... I suppose there was a note about that in my file."

Florence didn't try particularly hard to keep the bitterness out of her voice, and she could tell Peggy had noticed, but delicately the other woman didn't comment, instead taking a sip of her tea. 

"Oh but this is divine. You weren't exaggerating," She set the cup down and regarded Florence for a moment before she sighed and nodded, the business-like veneer coming down, just a little. "...Yes. There is a note in your file. I notice you used the past tense though, has something changed?"

Florence tensed, folding her fingers in front of her, knuckles white as she debated the wisdom of admitting to regaining her power. On the one hand, there was a chance they would detect the shift. She wasn't sure how they had been alerted to the events of three nights before, but it couldn't be ruled out that they had magic detectors. On the other, being powerless rendered her useless and pleasantly anonymous, and she had a lot of reasons to treasure being anonymous. 

Peggy watched her for a long moment, then nodded. 

"...I understand. Perhaps you might give me your account of what happened here?"

Florence nodded slowly, reaching for her cup to take a sip of tea and give herself some time to think. 

"...I don't know how much background you have to the situation."

"Some, but assume none. If there is anything I need filled in when you finish, I'll ask at the end."

Florence folded her hands around the mug, focussing on the feeling of the warmth against her palm and in her knuckles, almost but not quite too hot to bear. 

"...Before the war the house next door was home to two warlocks, Jonathan Barnavelt and Isaac Izard. They were good friends, very good friends. They performed together frequently and had built up quite the reputation. When war broke out, Isaac signed up to serve and was sent to Germany. The rest of his platoon was killed, and he was lost in the Schwarzwald. The Black Forest is a very old place, with very old magic. When he came back, he was changed but neither Jonathan nor I could understand why or how. He abandoned Jonathan, found himself a wife, a witch who was cruel and mean with a talent for disguises and the two of them sequestered themselves away. Last year Isaac performed a blood magic ritual which killed him, to form a clock key of human bone. The clock itself was hidden away in the walls. We couldn't tell what it did apart from something awful. We did report all of this, but we heard nothing, and so we did what we could to discover its secrets. 

About a month ago, Jonathan's nephew Lewis arrived. He's only ten years old, but an orphan. Jonathan is his only living relative. Lewis is... perceptive, and bright. Very bright. He soon noticed his uncle's strange behaviour and demanded an explanation. Upon learning that his uncle was a warlock, he asked to be taught. He has a natural affinity for it. Of course, to become a warlock or witch one has to defeat an evil spirit with one's own magic. Jonathan and I... didn't think that was something Lewis would have to undergo, but he succeeded. He is a warlock now. I don't know at what point you would want to add him to the register, whether it's status, or age, or influenced by other factors... We... neglected to tell Lewis the whole truth about Isaac. Jonathan didn't want to scare him. In desperation to fit in and make friends in this new town, and under the influence of Isaac's wife, Lewis... performed a ritual which brought Isaac back from the dead.

We discovered that the clock was a doomsday clock, designed to end the world by winding it back to the very beginning, with Isaac and Selina there to ensure the human race never existed. The plans were given to him by a demon he met, clouded by the hatred and fear of war while he was lost in Germany. Lewis managed to locate and destroy the clock, so the threat is resolved, and Isaac and Selina are gone."

"Dead?"

Florence's smile was twisted as she glanced at Peggy, sidelong beneath her lashes once more. 

"...They will never have existed."

Peggy watched her for a long moment, then sighed and drained her tea. 

"...Well, I must say it's all very neat, but it will make the paperwork a bit of a headache."

Despite herself, Florence laughed as she finished her own tea. 

"...You really aren't what I expected, Agent Carter. I rather think I like you."

"Good. I think I like you too."


	3. Chapter 3

"Is there anything I might do to help with dinner?"

"I'm afraid that since I had such short notice of your arrival I'm rather unprepared. I could... well, there are obvious solutions to that, but I'd rather avoid them. I don't like risking draining my powers for the mundane if I don't have to."

"One never knows when one might need them." Peggy replied with a smile, just as perceptive as Florence was already coming to accept. She hesitated, then continued, "In New York there are plenty of automats and such, but I suppose that isn't so much an option in small town America?"

"No I don't believe they've really caught on here... and people tend to go to bed much earlier. Small towns close much earlier than the big cities."

"That much I can believe."

Florence sighed, considering. 

"...I might have some ham in the icebox. Let me check."

"Of course. And I do apologise again."

"Please. It's not your fault."

Florence rose gracefully from the table and investigated the contents of her fridge.

"...Perhaps some baked ham and macaroni cheese? I have some green bean casserole too. All leftovers, I'm afraid, but I hope it might do."

Peggy smiled warmly, hands still curled around her mug as if clinging on to something soid. 

"That sounds wonderful, thank you. Do you... find much to occupy your time out here?"

"Oh, there's enough to do... I keep myself to myself mostly. I enjoy... anonymity. There's a safety to it. And you know what people can be like about strange immigrant women living alone."

Peggy winced. 

"Yes. I'm sure. Do you... get on well with Jonathan? You sounded quite positive about him."

Florence nodded slowly as she set dishes out on the side. 

"...Yes. I'm sure that's probably in my file too."

"Of course it is. He's a magic user too. But I am genuinely curious. You're friends?"

"We're friends. He's the oldest friend I have now. He drives me nuts and he doesn't always smell so good, but... he's gotten me out of more tough scrapes than I'd care to mention. It's strictly platonic. I think of him as a rather irritating little brother. But that is how family is much of the time, isn't it. We love them despite their faults."

"Yes..." Peggy smiled wistfully, and Florence cocked her head, watching. 

"Do you have siblings?"

"I had a brother. He died during the war. Occupational hazard I suppose. I'm sorry, that sounded rather callous."

"Don't be. I understand."

And she did. Sometimed it was the only way to cope. 

Florence hesitated a moment as she tipped the macaroni cheese into a pan to warm up on the hob. 

"...Jonathan and I... we play poker some nights. We were going to have a game tonight. I was going to just go around to cancel but... would you care to join us, perhaps?"

"...If you're sure I wouldn't be intruding?"

Peggy's dark eyes were hopeful, and Florence couldn't ignore that. She smiled. 

"Not at all. Unless you feel you'd be at an unfair disadvantage going up against two magic users."

Peggy grinned wickedly. 

"...I think I could hold my own."

Florence chuckled, the sound surprising even herself as it bubbled out of her. It felt like a long time since she'd really laughed, but there was sincerity in her voice and her gaze was level as she replied, "I'm sure you could."

~

Even if she said so herself, dinner had certainly been... acceptable. The baked ham had hints of honey and mustard to it, there was a tang to the macaroni cheese which complimented it nicely, and the green beans had held their own. American cooking had been something to adjust to, but Florence had always had a degree of comfort in the kitchen. 

Peggy finished her last mouthful and set her knife and fork down on the plate, swallowing happily and settling back in the chair. 

"...Florence, in all seriousness, that was absolutely delicious. Thank you. Please at least let me look after the clean up in exchange?"

"Oh, no, please... you're my guest. It's the least I can do."

Peggy's eyes crinkled a little at the edges as she smiled slightly sadly. 

"...Yes, but I'm not a willing guest, am I. That is, I was foisted on you rudely with little notice. And despite that you've been nothing but kind and more polite than I might have had a right to expect, and you've fed me most... well, more than satisfactorily. I'd like to offer something by way of thanks and an apology."

Florence blushed a little. 

"It's really not necessary... but if you insist?"

"I do."

Peggy stood and cleared the table, starting to run a sink of warm water for the washing up. 

"I might have thought the gin was apology enough. It's certainly more than any of your colleagues ever brought me."

"Well, I rather suspect I was better brought up than the majority of them. My mother would never have tolerated me arriving without some sort of gift for my host."

Florence raised an eyebrow. 

"...And if you had been visiting Jonathan?"

Peggy glanced back wryly as she rolled up her sleeves.

"...I might not have brought a gift. But I... have a little more understand of and sympathy for your situation."

Florence chuckled. 

"I appreciate that. Would you like me to open it now?"

"Perhaps we can take it with us to the poker game?"

"What an excellent idea."

~

Florence rang the bell and despite how comfortable she was rapidly becoming with Agent Carter, relief still flooded through her as the door opened and golden light spilled out over the front step. 

"Hey Florence, I was starting to think you weren't coming, everything okay? ...And who's this?"

Never before had she been so grateful for Jonathan's ability to roll with changes in circumstance. 

"Jonathan Barnavelt, this is Agent Peggy Carter with the SSR."

"Oh right... you here to check up on us?"

"On Florence, mainly. But it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Well I'd be happy to make any statement needed that Mrs Zimmermann is an excellent citizen of the United States and an upstanding member of the community."

Peggy smiled while Florence grimaced. 

"Well, that's very good of you Mr Barnavelt. Florence was telling me what a wonderful neighbour you are. Actually I'm primarily here because of the events last week. The SSR felt they merited investigation. I already have Florence's statement, but if you might be willing to make one that should wrap things up nicely. I'll do my best to keep your nephew out of it, but when he reaches the age of fourteen it would be best if you informed the bureau to register him."

Jonathan nodded slowly, and stepped back to invite the two women in. 

"...Thank you, Agent Carter. Duly noted."

"Please, call me Peggy."

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you, Peggy. I hope you can play poker."

"I played a little during the war, I suppose we'll find out whether I still remember how..."


	4. Chapter 4

The three of them were sat around one end of Jonathan's big table, and, as much as she loved him, Florence was glad Lewis hadn't joined them tonight. It would have been... well, perhaps it was unfair to think it would have been awkward. He had always shown immense maturity for his age, and an ability to roll with situations which reminded her of his uncle. She sometimes wonders if it's genetic, whether his mother was like that too. Still. Tonight Lewis was at a sleepover with the Pottingers, and it's a piece of luck she appreciates from a universe which is rarely on her side.

Jonathan was watching Peggy, eyes narrowed, and Florence sighed. 

"...Calling /that/ a poker face is an insult to faces."

"Oh, I don't know," Peggy smiled breezily as she laid a straight down on the table and Jonathan threw his cards down in disgust, "I've seen worse."

"Have you? When was that? It must have been quite impressively bad," Florence asked as she gathered the cards up for her turn to deal. 

"Oh, while I was in Europe during the war. I actually travelled with the Howling Commandos for a while. I don't know if you've heard of them."

"Wait, you're THAT AGENT CARTER?!"

Florence blinked, and gave Jonathan an unimpressed look. Yelling was never called for, no matter how excited one was, and to her credit (and perhaps her private amusement), he deflated a little in his seat. 

"...Sorry. But you're that Agent Carter?"

Peggy smiled, sunny and bright, like she was familiar with this. 

"Yes."

"I thought you looked familiar... in the news reels right?"

"Well, once or twice, when Captain Rogers was particularly careless."

"You knew Captain America!"

"Yes, I did. And yes, he had a terrible poker face. So did Bucky Barnes. None of the Howlies were particularly convincing, actually, though I'm certain they wouldn't want to admit it."

Florence chuckled, finishing the deal and taking a sip of her gin and tonic. Peggy did have good taste, that much was clear. 

"There was one memorable time, somewhere in a mudpit in... I think it was Poland, but the borders were all rather hazy... I have a picture of it Jim Morita took for me. He's the only one who stopped playing poker with me after the first time. All of the Howlies in their underpants and boots, some of them with only one boot, and Sergeant Barnes without his underpants, and there I was on the other side of the fire with a pile of loot, and wrapped in so many coats I looked like the Michelin man."

Florence burst out laughing, and she could feel tension she hadn't even been aware of carrying evaporating from her muscles. Jonathan's shoulders were shaking too, and he finally collected himself enough to say,

"Well... maybe shall we call this the final hand? And then I might make some cocoa, would you ladies like some?"

"That would be most kind of you, thank you."

Peggy's smile was charming, and it was obvious that she knew how to play the game, how to handle people. It could be a valuable skill. 

Jonathan offered a slight bow and disappeared towards the kitchen. 

Peggy turned her smile on Florence, luminous with perfectly painted scarlet lips. It was a bit of a vestige from the last decade, from the war... so many women had changed their style, evolving with the time, shades and trends in makeup were different but this was a woman holding on to a part of who she had been, who she wanted to continue being. It suited her. The colour of blood and courage and confidence. Florence could see why she might have held on to something like that. 

"You're right. He is very nice. Not a particularly skilled poker player, but very nice."

"He makes reasonable cocoa too."

Florence replied with a mischevious look from behind her glass as she drained the final sip of gin. 

"You have excellent taste, by the way. This gin is delicious."

"Thank you. I'll try and remember that. I notice I've been winning rather a lot, I do hope you haven't been modifying the odds in my favour."

Florence widened her eyes in mock innocence, then shook her head, still smiling. It was starting to feel less foreign on her face. Tonight was one of those shining nights that would be etched in memory, a glittering dream to be a talisman against the darker ones of shadow and nightmare. She still wasn't sure what it was about this woman that made her feel so easy, but tonight was a night of joy with friends, and she wasn't about to sacrifice the warmth and pleasure of it on the altar of what-ifs and maybes. Joy had to be seized where it could be found, and held onto fiercely. 

"No. There's been no need. You're simply a very talented player yourself. Though hearing about the poker school you came up through I'm somehow not surprised."

Peggy grinned as she finished her own drink.

"I held my own. And then occasionally of course, the men held them for me."

Jonathan returned with a tray, three steaming mugs and a pewter pot Florence had never seen before that she supposed he'd brought out for company. 

He handed round the cocoa and then looked hopefully at Florence. 

"Cookies?"

"...Was that a statement or a question?"

"Please? I made the cocoa, c'mon, it's only fair."

Florence rolled her eyes but gestured, an impatient circle drawn in the air with a flick of her finger, conjuring a fine bone china plate with a stack of chocolate chip cookies on it, still warm from the oven. 

Jonathan seized one immediately, not entirely unlike a chipmunk and grinned. 

"Thanks Florence. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you got your powers back, but that will always be my favourite of your little tricks."

Florence and Peggy both stilled for a moment, and the witch could feel the other woman's eyes on her as Jonathan glanced between them, one of those strange little moments where the world seemed to fall silent all at once, leaving you so aware of background noises you only ever noticed by their absence. 

"You... hadn't mentioned that?"

"Thank you Jonathan," She forced an awkward smile, and glanced across at Peggy before she took a cookie of her own and dipped it in the cocoa, "No, I... it hadn't come up, yet."

"Don't worry, I quite understand."

Peggy's voice was quiet, and Florence glanced up, searching for confirmation. She found what she was looking for and nodded. 

"...Thank you. I believe that."

"Besides, it's not like it's a problem? You guys should be thanking her if anything. I reported Isaac several times after he returned and you just pawned me off on secretary after secretary assuring me that reports would be investigated, and then when Isaac died I was told the matter was closed with no further investigation deemed necessary. If Florence hadn't somehow found her strength again we'd all be dead."

Peggy lifted her mug carefully in both hands and braced her elbows on the table, nodding solemnly. 

"I quite understand. And I agree completely. Please, don't worry, I'm not here to catch either of you out."

Florence sighed and glanced awkwardly at Jonathan. 

"...Perhaps we should go."

"Finish your cocoa first, please, but it's getting late... we probably should call it a night."

~

Peggy was quiet as she followed Florence back up the path to the house next door, and when Florence opened the door and flicked the switch to turn the hall light on, she glanced back, somewhat apprehensive. 

"...I was going to tell you, really. There just didn't seem a good way of mentioning it, and I'm a little... wary of-"

"Please-" Peggy held up a hand and then lowered it slightly apologetically, "I... do understand. Really. Have your powers really returned at full strength?"

Florence walked into the hallway and hung up her hat on the hooks, setting her umbrella in the stand, though she grasped the handle a little longer than strictly necessary for comfort. 

"...I... it seems so? It's hard to tell," She straightened her shoulders and met Peggy's eyes with a calm equanimity the agent was beginning to truly respect, "It's only been a few days. I don't know if they'll remain, but it seems likely given... the series of events related to their loss as well as their return. I've hardly had an opportunity to test myself. Or, if I'm entirely honest with you, a desire to."

"Of course. And perhaps this is a conversation which might keep better until morning, but... it does add an extra layer to a... favour, perhaps? I had been intending to ask of you."

Florence fixed her with a gaze, fingers once more twitching in the direction of her umbrella, though for the moment she suppressed the urge. 

"...And what is that?"

Peggy shifted awkwardly, then glanced at the sofa. 

"...Perhaps we could sit down and discuss it?"


	5. Chapter 5

Florence followed Peggy to the sofa and sat down, her guard up now as she lit the lamp with a peremptory snap of her fingers. 

Peggy had the decency to look a little abashed as she settled into the cushions opposite the witch. 

"...So, is this the other errand you were sent here for?"

"I was sent here officially to investigate the events of last week. I had my own reasons for wanting to take this particular case myself, not least that I remembered you and I wanted to see how you were getting on, besides which none of my colleagues wanted to make the trip and they can be abrasive and rude at the best of times," Peggy's eyes glittered a little in the low light, defensive at first, but she softened, "There was... another reason. We became aware during the war of the widespread use of magic and the occult in a way which had previously escaped the notice of most normal people, as I'm sure you know. The Nazi deep science division and its occult interests posed a huge threat, and America and Britain were both left scrambling to form a resistance to it. The traditions in the UK were more longstanding, certainly, through strength of history and the systematic oppression and erasure of Native traditions here, but we did, eventually, mount some kind of defence. For a while Hitler even held the Spear of Longinus. I'm not sure if you were aware of that."

"I will admit I largely didn't concern myself with what he was doing. I had more pressing matters to attend to." Florence replied coolly. 

"Of course. But as a high ranking SSR Agent with the experience I gathered during the war, I have been asked to... feel out the potential for a new team focused on the use of magic and the occult, identifying, predicting, and countering threats. The war may be over for everyone else, but we know that wars never really end, they simply go underground, and other threats rise up to take their place. We cannot afford to be naked and undefended, we cannot afford to ignore these threats, and we need expertise to help us keep the world safe. I was... I had been planning to ask whether you might be willing to come on board as an advisor. Knowing that your powers were... well, knowing what you had been, and knowng what you had lost. The knowledge you have is unparalleled, and I thought you might be a valuable asset."

Florence's fingers flexed, curling into the fabric of her skirt, knuckles white as she gritted her teeth, striving for some level of self control. She could appreciate the honesty, but at the same time... it was difficult not to resent. She had seen the damage magic could do in the wrong hands. She had no reason to trust this government over any other, and nor did this Agent Carter. 

"...You think, with what this government is doing now? With show trials and witch hunts, which I have seen before, which we have all seen before, you think I would be willing to put my knowledge, let alone my power at their disposal?"

There was an electricity crackling in the air which she tried to control, because the consequences of assaulting an SSR Agent would be... unimaginably difficult, although there was a part of her which suspected Peggy might not report her for it. 

"No."

Peggy's voice was calm, certain, enough to ground Florence as she finally met the other woman's eyes again, and there was no sign of deception there. 

Peggy raised her hands, open, palms down, unarmed and unthreatening, trying to calm her. 

"I am not a part of the US government. The team wouldn't be either. It would be an international effort, focused on preventing the kinds of harm we've seen perpetrated all over the world. Humans are quite capable of evil on their own, without demonic help. If we can frustrate those efforts, cut off that source of support and strength and ideas... it doesn't solve all of the problems, and I won't pretend it does, but it helps things getting even bigger, even nastier than they might have been otherwise. We want to keep people safe, and, to be quite honest, we want to keep the planet intact. I know what you lost, I know what you sacrificed, and I know what you did. If I had a choice I wouldn't be asking you to be part of another war, but... really, there is no other choice. There is nobody who knows what you know, nobody who could do what you could do, who can do what you can do. If you don't want to fight... I won't make you. I can do my best to ensure that you would be an advisor, nothing more, strictly non-combat. If you want me to leave now, I will leave now. But I hope that you might consider at least... lending us your expertise. Even on a temporary basis."

The crackle faded slowly from the air and Florence offered one sharp nod as she stood, glancing back over her shoulder with the parting shot:

"...I'll think about it."

~

Breakfast the next morning was a quiet affair, and Peggy made no effort to force idle chatter on her host. She knew it had been a risk to open up about her other reasons for coming, but on the other hand, hearing that Florence's powers had been restored to her had made the opportunity too good to pass up. She could also absolutely understand the other woman's need for time to think. 

They both finished their eggs, and Peggy drained her coffee, fighting down a sigh, missing the connection she had felt they had shared yesterday. She so rarely met people with whom she could really connect, people who understood what she had been through. She rarely met any other women at all. Sometimes it could be so very lonely. 

She stood to clear the table, and her eyes widened as Florence took the empty mug from her and submerged it firmly in the warm soapy water. She'd barely spoken two words this morning, and now her back was to Peggy again, but she was making no effort to actually wash anything as the silence stretched on. 

"...This team. Who would be leading it?"

"Someone I trust."

"Who."

"Lord James Montgomery Falsworth."

"Who is he?"

"He fought in the Great War as the hero Union Jack against the Germans, as part of Freedom's Five. They were a secret team of British heroes who did a lot of good work. When the second war broke out, he donned the mask again, and I met him when Steve did. His son was one of the Howlies. James was crippled in a fight with the vampire Baron Blood and his son took on the mantle of Union Jack instead. Steve helped him alongside Jim Hammond and Namor in some of the decisive but less well-known battles of the war. Blood had attacked his daughter Jaqueline, who also joined the team when the resulting... mess gave her impressive abilities of her own. It turned out later in one of those painful ironies that Blood had been his brother. Jaqueline Falsworth will also be a member of the team, or at least a close liason. But Falsworth has a proven track record, and some understanding of what we will be up against. He also, impressively, has no issue with women." 

"Will you be on the team?"

"Yes."

"Who else?"

"Our American liason will be Professor Trevor Bruttenholm at the relatively nascent BPRD or Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defence. The team itself will be under the auspices of the SSR, which is... going through some... restructuring."

Florence glanced back at that, the first time she'd willingly looked at the agent that morning, and Peggy offered her a smile. 

"...Restructuring?"

Peggy sighed, fingers twitching, then picked up another mug from the draining board and refilled it with coffee. 

"...The SSR was supposed to be a short-term solution to a short-term problem. Howard Stark and I are of the opinion that it did good work, and does a job the world will continue to need, however as it is it isn't designed for that. We were rather thinking of calling the new organisation SHIELD. This new team would be one of the founding initiatives."

"And you are one of the founding members."

Peggy took a sip of her coffee and nodded. 

"One of two, yes."

Florence dried her hands on a tea towel and turned to face her at long last, watching her, looking for something Peggy didn't quite understand. 

"...I am starting to think I underestimated you, Agent Carter."

"Most people do."

Florence let out a brief laugh at that, and nodded slowly. 

"...Alright. On the understanding that I may leave whenever I want, I'll join your team. For now."

Peggy smiled and held out a hand, which Florence took after a moment, shaking it firmly. 

"Welcome aboard, Mrs Zimmermann."

"Florence."

Peggy nodded, taking another sip of her coffee and setting the now empty mug in the sink, one eyebrow arched as she smiled. 

"In which case, it's still Peggy."

"Thank you, Peggy."


	6. Chapter 6

"So, I have agreed to join your team. What happens next?"

"Well, I-"

"I presume you will still have to complete your report to the SSR as it is?"

There was a sharpness to Florence's tone, and in her eyes, which was almost disconcerting. Peggy reminded herself not to take it personally. She could recognise the effects of loss. She knew them well enough herself, and she had a feeling that if they could move past this, then the jagged edges remaining after loss might be something they would have in common. There were unique wounds and frustrations to their situations. Of course, there were very few people who had been untouched by the war, particularly in Europe, but here in America their experiences were personal, and much closer than many. It was compounded, of course, by being women in a culture where what they had done was regarded as an aberration. 

Peggy knew from her ex-colleagues, and from contacts back home that there were plenty of women who had returned to civilian life and moved on, those who had done jobs like hers, or worked at Bletchley Park or with SOE or in other similar places had to pretend that they had only done ordinary work during the war and go back to being ordinary people. Heroism was for the men, and after the war the men needed jobs. The economy was booming, and industry with it, but Peggy hadn't been able to face going back into a box. She could understand, however, why Florence had made that choice, and part of her hated having to drag her out of it. The facts could not be changed, though. This was a new kind of arms race, and Florence might well prove to be their secret weapon. 

"I will."

Florence nodded slowly. 

"...And how will your departure be explained to them? It seems strange to me, to have layers of secrecy on layers of secrecy, and yet I suspect this team and this endeavour is not widely known in the SSR or else one of your colleagues might already have approached me. You are at such a high level and simultaneously treated like a clerk and nothing more."

Peggy allowed herself a slight smile, and a hint of a shrug. 

"It's a handy cover. It lets me know what they're really thinking. But I promise you that I am who I say I am, and that I am doing what I say I am doing. The rest of the SSR may be lagging, but Howard Stark and I, and our new partners... we have a level of understanding others do not share. Besides, as frustrating as I find the behaviour and attitudes of some, I don't find them sufficient justification to allow the system as it is, and the status quo to be destroyed. It's far from perfect, yes, but it's the best we've got. I suspect that the only way to a better future is to fight to improve it, rather than tearing it all down to the ground and attempting to build something better from the ashes."

Florence nodded once more, still unhurried, considering carefully all of the information Peggy was willing to offer her. 

"You think SHIELD has the potential to be part of that fight?"

"That's why I believe in it, yes. And I also know more about the imminent dangers we are facing, and how important it is to counter them. I'm doing this for the long-term, and the short-term, Florence."

"I see." Florence paused for a moment, then tilted her head, one eyebrow slightly raised as her lips quirked, a little crack in her facade which gave Peggy a glimmer of hope. "...And Howard Stark? You think he's part of the solution?"

Peggy laughed a little despite herself, grateful for the return of Florence's sense of humour. She hadn't known the other woman long, but she had been missing that since last night. 

"...As strange as it seems, yes, I do. Howard is... a playboy, that much I don't deny. He is a playboy and a philanderer, but he is open about it. One day he may well settle down, and I think when he does he will stay settled. He's more of a... serial monogamist, though some of those monogamous relationships are very brief indeed. What I find fascinating about that though, is that actually he respects women. There are those who have turned him down and he has never pressed the issue. Those who have been with him have had a good time, and he's never shamed a single one of them. He also respects women for what they can do. He and I have never had an issue of professional respect, Stark Industries employs women, and employs them in technical and scientific roles as well as clerical ones. He regards women as people, rather than things, and capable of making their own decisions. He's backed me, and he's backed others. He is one of the few men I encountered in all my war service and beyond who accepted me as an equal on my own terms. I treasure that."

Florence smiled a little. 

"...That makes sense. Thank you for being willing to explain, I hope you can understand my scepticism."

"I certainly can. Besides, Howard's brain just works on a different level to anyone else I've ever met. His grasp of concepts and their potential applications is unparalleled. Though I would never say that to his face. He is a real asset, and for all his faults, which are many and well-catalogued, he is fundamentally on the side of good. He's seen that good can benefit his wallet, and he'll claim that that's the primary motivation. I don't deny that it's part of it, I suspect if you cut the man he'd bleed capitalism, but I know him far better than almost anyone, and I also know that he has his own strong code of ethics and lines he won't cross. He invents some things out of curiousity, like a child, purely to see if he can, but if he doesn't trust anyone else to respect that technology then he doesn't release it, no matter how much money it would make him. I honestly think that if he were perhaps... otherwise inclined, he would pursue male partners just as enthusiastically as he pursues women. He probably has the money to shield him from the consequences."

Florence shook her head sadly. 

"I don't think money is the shield it used to be with McCarthy on the rise. I admit, though, that you've done a great deal to change my opinion of Howard Stark. If I meet him, I will endeavour to do so without any preconceptions."

"Oh, you'll meet him." Peggy paused, considered, tilting both her hand and her head in thought, then smiled, "...Try to resist the urge to turn him into a toad when he tries it on?"

Florence laughed outright. 

"Do you think it's likely?"

Peggy's eyes were dancing as she replied, "I'd put money on it. For one thing, you are undeniably stunning. For another, he charms everyone and everything all the time and I don't think he can turn it off. He will flirt outrageously with any woman regardless of age or anything else. He's very egalitarian in that respect. But one firm boundary, and he won't cross it."

Florence frowned quizzically, though Peggy could see her lips twitching against a smile. 

"...Agent Carter, do forgive me asking, but I must know. How did you set that boundary?"

Peggy grinned. 

"I think it was probably the time I outright kicked him in the balls. Though he did also witness the time I shot Steve."

"...You shot Captain America?"

Peggy waved it away, still smiling brightly. 

"I was helping him test shield designs. Besides, sometimes it takes drastic action to make a point. Some men can be rather slow on the uptake."

Florence chuckled a little, shaking her head slowly. 

"...I must say I admire your style. So, Agent Carter, where do we go from here?"

"Peggy, please?"

Florence's smile was soft and tinged with something approaching sadness as she nodded slowly and repeated herself. 

"So, Peggy, where do we go from here?"

Peggy nodded. 

"I think... perhaps the next thing might be for you to come with me to meet Lord Falsworth. He is currently in the country for a meeting with Howard and Professor Bruttenholm, and myself. As our first recruit and... well. You deserve to be as much of a part of this as the rest of us."

Florence watched her for a moment, her face unreadable. 

"...You really think I'm so important to this?"

Peggy met her eyes, level and calm. 

"Yes. I do."

"...Alright. Should I pack a bag?"

Peggy smiled. 

"I think that would be best."

"...How long shall I pack for?"

"...I wouldn't think this will be more than a couple of days at most, but... if there's anything I learned during the war, it's that it's always better to pack for all eventualities, and to be prepared."

"Things like this are never really as simple as they are planned to be. Not for those on the front line. And from what you have said... I am supposedly on the front line."

Peggy smiled, reaching for Florence's hand. 

"...We will be on the front line together."

Florence nodded, squeezing Peggy's hand after a moment. 

"...If I must go back to this, then I suppose I cannot think of anyone I would rather be on the front line with, Agent Carter."

This time, Peggy laughed, recognising the title for what it was. 

"Mrs Zimmermann, I find I couldn't agree more."


	7. Chapter 7

New York somehow seemed even grander and busier than Florence remembered it being. Of course, it had been a long time. Ten years, give or take. Even bearing that in mind the sheer scale of it somewhat boggled the mind. Everything was bigger here. Perhaps it was some sort of compensation for legacy? Although it was not obvious from the surface, America, this America, was a very young country. There was nothing like the honeyed stone of Paris, rather, everything seemed to be unflattering shades of grey painted by smog and exhaust fumes below the glittering lights of buildings that seemed to scrape the sky. 

Even bearing all of that in mind there was still something almost familiar about the red brick edifice they pulled up in front of in the taxi cab. Huge, and anonymous, the kind of building thousands walked past every day without even a second glance. Florence knew enough to recognise a government facade when she saw one, although this was rather nice as it went. Red brick was somehow more friendly than concrete. The sign above the door pronounced it to be a telephone exchange, and she had no doubt that much was true. What else might be housed there, though, that was a different matter. 

She followed Peggy through the narrow rows of desks, a little surprised that nobody seemed to glance up at them. No heads raised from the control consoles, and the chatter continued unabated as connections were made across the city, the country, possibly even the world. Still, there was a comfort in anonymity for Florence too, and her only concession as she followed Peggy's undeviating path towards the back of the room and what looked like an elevator, was to make a note of possible escape routes and tighten her grip on her umbrella. She remembered Agent Carter, she remembered how they had met, and this offer was believable, but Florence had learned long ago the perils of not having an escape route in dealings like this.

The offices upstairs are quieter than she expected, more effectively insulated from the busy telephone exchange downstairs than one might have thought. Florence was surprised when Peggy continued straight up the corridor to the end, giving one sharp rap of her knuckles to the frosted glass, and then opening the door. 

The three men inside had evidently been mid-conversation, but they fell silent as the two women entered. The one leaning back louchely in the chair behind the desk with his feet propped up and quite the moustache instantly sat back up properly in the chair, like a naughty child who knew he had been caught out. The other two men shared an amused look. Peggy raised an eyebrow, and the man in the chair stood, crossing around the desk to greet them. 

"Peggy, so great to see you again!"

Florence watched with amusement as the man she presumed to be Howard Stark attempted to go in for a continental kiss, only to be held back forcibly by the offer of Peggy's hand. 

"Hello Howard. No, before you ask, I haven't missed you. Though carry on like that and we'll find out whether my aim is still up there with the best of the SSR."

The older man with silver hair and aristocratic bearing in the wheelchair chuckled. 

"Agent Carter, how kind of you to make time in your busy schedule to meet with us. After all the stories my son told me, it is an honour to meet you in person, or at least, without the mask."

Peggy smiled, bowing her head for a moment in acknowledgement and shaking his hand. Florence watched, admiring Peggy's confidence. She was comfortable in this environment in a way Florence couldn't imagine she would ever be. She was here because Peggy was right, and there were things that mattered more than her own personal discomfort, but she was as distrustful of this government as any other. 

"...It's a pleasure to see you again, Lord Falsworth. I look forward to working under you," she shifted her attention to the third man in the room, with wire-rimmed glasses and a mess of curly hair. "And Professor Bruttenholm. Please, allow me to introduce Dr Florence Zimmermann."

The British aristocrat smiled warmly at her, offering his hand in much the same way he had offered it to Peggy. 

"Dr Zimmermann, how kind of you to agree to meet. I understand your scepticism but I appreciate your willingness to give us a chance. Your expertise in this area is truly unparalleled. I am Lord Falsworth, please, call me James."

Florence took his hand, somewhat surprised by his attitude.

"...The pleasure is mine, my lord. I'm pleased to be able to offer my assistance, on the understanding that this is a temporary consulting arrangement, with no... long-term obligation."

"Of course, I entirely understand, although I do hope you might be persuaded to continue to work with us in future. Naturally we will be grateful for any assistance you can offer us."

Florence hesitated, staring at him and trying to shake the feeling that she had met the man before. There was no way, of course, but something about him was familiar.

Peggy's voice cut in, surprisingly gentle as she offered something of an explanation. 

"...Of course, you haven't met Lord Falsworth before, but you have met his son. Monty is rather the spitting image of his father."

The pieces fell into place and Florence stared into those twinkling eyes. 

"...Yes. Of course. Thank you, my lord, I believe I owe your son my life. Among others."

Lord Falsworth paused briefly to steady himself, then nodded, squeezing her hand before he finally released it. 

"Yes. Thank you. I am very proud of him, I'm sure you understand. May I take it then perhaps that you were the Resistance agent the Howling Commandoes retrieved from Auschwitz?"

Florence swallowed, answering with a sharp nod and stepping back, needing the physical separation from the man and the memories to keep herself together. 

"Yes. Forgive me but it's something that's rather a blur to me, and perhaps not something for discussion in-"

"Of course, how inconsiderate of me. Please, forgive an old man."

"Perhaps we'd better turn to matters of business?" 

That was the Professor on the other side of the room, and Florence felt momentarily more grateful than she could express at the reprieve. 

"Yes, I think we had..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're continuing to enjoy it! We're moving into the real body of this now and things are starting to move! Thank you all for being patient while I took a month's break from writing, don't worry I'm doing my best to get back to writing now, though there's a lot of RL stuff in flux, so as always I appreciate your patience and your kind thoughts. Happy new year everyone!


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